Living Outside
Dual post! I posted this to my personal blog as well, so enjoy! This is the explanation for my going to prison...
WEST LIBERTY, KY - Over the past two days, I have visited three prisons. If I never have to go back to a prison, I will die a happy man.
The first prison I visted on Wednesday was not that bad. Blackburn Correctional Complex in Lexington, Ky. is a minimum security facility. No walls, no fences, no razor wire. Inmates tend flowers and do stonework out front of the prison with no more than a guard in the nearby front gate shack watching them. All these men will be out within the next two years. Attempting escape would be stupid. They'd end up serving more time in a higher-security prison. Better to be patient.
Inmates are viewed as different people, but to make this work I can't really adopt that viewpoint. I change my stance. I treat them like people. Shake their hands, smile. Be respectful. They made their mistakes, sure, but they put their pants on one leg at a time in the morning, just like me. And like it or not, I'm just as human and just as prone to making mistakes like theirs.
As I depart the prison, a chink in what I call my "Mr. Professional Journalist" armor appears. When I put my pants on that morning, I didn't zip up my zipper. Human error rears its ugly head in a humiliating way.
The second prison I visited was the Kentucky Correctional Institution for Women. It's harder for me to talk to the women than it was to talk to the men at Blackburn. They're all suspicious of me. I simply smile and rely upon the same strategy that served me well interviewing and taking pictures of inmates at Blackburn.
On Thursday, I went to the Eastern Kentucky Correctional Complex. This is a medium security prison like KCIW. Fences with razor wire, high walls, guard towers and regular patrols. Same strategy. Treat them like people. Dignity and respect. It serves me well a third time.
I was never at one of these prisons for more than two hours. At the end, I packed up my camera bag and was escorted out. At Blackburn, I felt nothing. There were no iron bars or concrete walls to close me in. Leaving KCIW I felt a twinge of guilt. I felt it again at EKCC. I had waltzed in the prison and now was strolling out without a care in the world. I took for granted what it meant to breathe easy outside those walls.
Now I know why those inmates stared at me, openly envious. I was a free man in their land, but it will be a while before most of them are be free people on the outside.
Last night, I did not sleep soundly. I slept only a couple hours. I laid awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if tomorrow, or the day after that, or next week or next month or next year, I'd still be as grateful for my freedom.
The sad part is, I probably won't. I'll forget my lesson learned this week.
Maybe that's the worst crime of all.
WEST LIBERTY, KY - Over the past two days, I have visited three prisons. If I never have to go back to a prison, I will die a happy man.
The first prison I visted on Wednesday was not that bad. Blackburn Correctional Complex in Lexington, Ky. is a minimum security facility. No walls, no fences, no razor wire. Inmates tend flowers and do stonework out front of the prison with no more than a guard in the nearby front gate shack watching them. All these men will be out within the next two years. Attempting escape would be stupid. They'd end up serving more time in a higher-security prison. Better to be patient.
Inmates are viewed as different people, but to make this work I can't really adopt that viewpoint. I change my stance. I treat them like people. Shake their hands, smile. Be respectful. They made their mistakes, sure, but they put their pants on one leg at a time in the morning, just like me. And like it or not, I'm just as human and just as prone to making mistakes like theirs.
As I depart the prison, a chink in what I call my "Mr. Professional Journalist" armor appears. When I put my pants on that morning, I didn't zip up my zipper. Human error rears its ugly head in a humiliating way.
The second prison I visited was the Kentucky Correctional Institution for Women. It's harder for me to talk to the women than it was to talk to the men at Blackburn. They're all suspicious of me. I simply smile and rely upon the same strategy that served me well interviewing and taking pictures of inmates at Blackburn.
On Thursday, I went to the Eastern Kentucky Correctional Complex. This is a medium security prison like KCIW. Fences with razor wire, high walls, guard towers and regular patrols. Same strategy. Treat them like people. Dignity and respect. It serves me well a third time.
I was never at one of these prisons for more than two hours. At the end, I packed up my camera bag and was escorted out. At Blackburn, I felt nothing. There were no iron bars or concrete walls to close me in. Leaving KCIW I felt a twinge of guilt. I felt it again at EKCC. I had waltzed in the prison and now was strolling out without a care in the world. I took for granted what it meant to breathe easy outside those walls.
Now I know why those inmates stared at me, openly envious. I was a free man in their land, but it will be a while before most of them are be free people on the outside.
Last night, I did not sleep soundly. I slept only a couple hours. I laid awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if tomorrow, or the day after that, or next week or next month or next year, I'd still be as grateful for my freedom.
The sad part is, I probably won't. I'll forget my lesson learned this week.
Maybe that's the worst crime of all.
posted by Shafa at 8:10 AM
2 Comments:
Send us the stories when they're done, man. Your post deserves a follow-up.
Most definitely.
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